


Almost Like a Fairytale

by aaliyahcrosses



Category: Vocaloid
Genre: Deaths, F/M, Reincarnations, Short, killing your special one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-13
Updated: 2017-07-13
Packaged: 2018-12-01 18:24:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11492082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aaliyahcrosses/pseuds/aaliyahcrosses
Summary: "Even if just a littleI can make a tomorrow that you are able to believeThen there is no such thing as a world without meaningI won't give up anymore"– Amnesia Opening, English Translation





	Almost Like a Fairytale

**Author's Note:**

> First posted in ff.net
> 
> Found VY2/Miku's Cendrillon version (I personally like it more than the original ver—actually, I've never liked that song until I heard the KaiMei and VY1/VY2 cover—I liked the story though in the PV) and got inspired. So here. Originally gonna be long but meh. We all know what happens to my long stories.
> 
> *whispers* watch the video btw VY2 kinda looks like someone there (TEEED TED KASANEEEEE)… and I really loved both the art and story
> 
> Warnings: Deaths, reincarnation, killing your special one, poisons, knives, swords, and any other ways people can die, Dark!VY2 and somewhat Dark!Miku (I guess?), VY2/Miku. Short. Fast paced. No build up. Skipping. Boring. Lame ending. And then there's this unknown girl (cookies to the person who knows who the girl is! Haha)

* * *

They have lived and relived so many lives, only for it to end up the same way: they both die, and in some queer way, it was because they love each other so much. Love and blood. Such was the red string that connected them. The strong string that connected light and dark even after death. Even after many,  _many_  deaths.

* * *

Their first life he was a powerful emperor, he had done what he pleased. But he wanted to be even more powerful. He was such a monster. A demon.  _She_  was his wife. He had planned it all, how he would terrorize the people even more, how he would make them suffer. But first, he had to make sure his wife would not experience his cruelty. So one night, he stabbed her. Unbeknownst to him, she had liquid poison on her mouth. She forced it down his throat with a kiss.

"So… this is how it ends, huh?" he asked as he clasped her body close while caressing her cheek. He could vaguely feel the effects of the poison already. "I love you, my dearest princess."

She chuckled weakly. "And I you, my lord."

He killed her as a gift, so she would not need suffer, and  _she_ killed  _him_  so he would not turn into the devil himself. Such was the love they felt for each other.

* * *

The next he was a hired killer. He was good at what he does. And then he met her, the girl who smiled at him even though most everyone, who sees he has a sword, tends to avoid him. They befriended each other. It seemed that she did not remember him, or at least she pretends not to, but  _he_  does and he wanted to start over again.

But he had his work, and one night he killed a group of men. The next morning, when the bodies were found, a girl was sobbing over one of the bodies. Later, he finds out it was her, and the body she was crying over was her fiancé's, when she stuck a knife through his chest and he, in retaliation and instinct, slashed at her torso deeply with his sword.

* * *

Again and again, it happened. He tried to avoid it from happening. He avoided everything, even to the point that on one of his lives, he would not go out of his house (it did not work, of course). Fate was mocking him, laughing at his face. So he decided to change his plans, his tactics.

* * *

Fire.

The fire spread everywhere, surrounding them. He was a spy working undercover. She was the government agent. And somehow, it ended to this: the two of them, pointing their guns at each other, while the fires rose in the building. The upper floors had been bombed, the lower floors streaked with fire. They were trapped.

"Just give up," she said, all in a cold, business-like tone. It hurt him. "The president might—"

And he realized: unlike their other lives, she was negotiating. Asking him not to continue, asking him to live.  _Ah, so she_ _ **does**_ _remember_! Perhaps her views had changed? Because of their repeated killings of each other? That maybe, just maybe, loving someone is making sure they live; that they live happily, that they live and bask in the light of life before dying. That they enjoyed life. He smiled, "I'm sorry."

He saw her get ready with her gun, finger on the trigger, but instead of shooting her, he pointed  _his_  gun to  _himself_. "I'm sorry," he repeated. "And I love you." He pulled the trigger, and the last thing he heard was her screaming his names—all his names, from the first to the current.

* * *

He woke up and saw green. A green, lush woods, grass beneath him. A pond nearby. _And a girl._

The queer girl merely ignored him, as she swung her legs over the pond, nearly touching it but never doing so. Then she suddenly spoke—"You changed your destiny. Such a will you have. Such a brave, brave boy. Tell me, why did you do it?" It was only after she spoke that she looked at him. She was smiling.

He blinked confusedly, and ran his tongue over his lips. He wondered how this  _child_  should know, but he spoke anyway. "I… Because I love her. I  _have_ loved her. I always have. I still do. But the difference now, is that I see where I went wrong."

"You have seen your errors then?"

"Yes, I think so. That's it. I did not want her to die. I want her to live.  _Happily_."

"Then go," she gestured to the pond. "Go back and make her happy then."

Hesitantly, he walked over and jumped down the water. The last thing he saw was the girl's smile (just the smile—it reminded him of the Cheshire cat somehow), before he woke up  _again_ , this time, in a whitewashed room.

He was lying on a bed and beside the bed was a chair, where  _she_  was sitting while holding his hand tight. She seemed to be sleeping.

He looked around. A hospital room?

She stirred. He found his attention back on her, on the way she blinked open her eyes and squeezed his hand while she woke up.

He ran his thumb fondly over her hand. "Good morning."

"You're an idiot," she mumbled as she woke up, immediately frowning.

"Hey, I changed our destinies, didn't I?"

"What destinies? You nearly died! I know I should be grateful that you saved me from that truck but look what happened to you!" She gestured frantically at his whole body. She yapped about his apparent broken bones and other injuries he seemed to be suffering with. He stopped it only by squeezing her hand and bringing it up to his lips.

She blinked rapidly in surprise. She smiled. "What has gotten into you?"

He laughed sheepishly. Last time he remembered he was a spy…? And then, in his mind's eye, he saw a vague picture of pushing her before she got hit by a vehicle. He blinked. Had he remembered all his past life because of the accident? Is his memories all muddled? He smiled, and looked at her. "Let's just say I want you to be the happiest girl in the world."

"Well then you can start on not dying on me, okay?" she bit her lip. "You had me worried so much. I-I thought you'd die I just—"

And just like that, he kissed her.

* * *

 


End file.
